Mike stared without expression at the young man standing in the open doorway, trying to judge his mood.
His right hand on the door, Steve was staring back with a slight frown then he slowly took a step forward and let his hand slide off the door, allowing it to close gently and silently behind him. As he moved towards the bed his eyes began to light up and a smile to build.
Mike mirrored the look; he could feel the blood pounding in his ears and the sting of sudden tears in his eyes. He blinked quickly, trying to clear his vision and mask his embarrassingly undisciplined reaction but was woefully unsuccessful. Clearing his throat self-consciously, he hesitated a split second before remarking, in a somewhat strained voice, "You were gone a long time."
Still smiling warmly, Steve nodded. "I had a lot to think about."
"Yeah, I know…" He wanted to ask what conclusions his young partner had come to, but wasn't sure if he was prepared to hear the answers. There was so much, for both of them, hanging above their heads at the moment.
Steve knew what Mike was thinking and he smiled genially. He knew the last few hours had been as difficult for his mentor as they had for him, and he didn't want to keep the older man on tenterhooks any longer than necessary.
Mike had taken a huge gamble telling him about the Crocker drug machine and allowing him to work out the implications of his own incarceration. The realization of how close he had come to losing everything was soul shattering but, as he had seen many times in the past few months as this remarkable man's partner, Mike knew exactly what to do to help him deal with it.
He raised his left hand; he was holding a white plastic grocery bag. Mike's head went back slightly and he frowned; he hadn't noticed it when Steve was standing at the door, so focused he had been on the young man's face. He shook his head slightly in bemusement at his own oversight and chuckled softly. "What's that?"
With a widening grin, Steve dropped the bag on the bed and reached in. "I thought I'd get us a little treat. I already checked with the nurses and you're allowed. Ta-da," he laughed as he withdrew two boxes of Cracker Jacks. "Your favorite."
Laughing, Mike closed his eyes briefly and tossed his head back. A wave of relief washed over him and he caught his breath with a shudder. Instinctively, Steve reached out, laying a hand on his arm and squeezing. Mike looked at him; neither of them was smiling. They both knew how much had been at stake.
But now, at this moment, Steve had never felt more loved and Mike had never felt so proud.
Removing his hand and clearing his throat, Steve said with forced casualness, "Listen, ah, there's three cops out there," he nodded over his shoulder towards the door, "who haven't had dinner yet and neither have I…" He looked at the older man with raised eyebrows.
Mike shook his head quickly, a slight smile beginning to appear. "Ah, no… no, I haven't…"
"Good. That's what I thought. Anyway, ah, I talked to the nurses about that too," he smiled mischievously from under a lowered brow, "and they told me you can have pizza, as long as it's not too spicy – and no anchovies," he finished quickly, raising a forefinger as Mike opened his mouth to protest.
The older man glared at him for a long beat before the smile reappeared along with a chuckle. Then, with a smirk, he waggled his index finger back and forth between them. "This being in control is not going to last very long, you do know that, right?"
With a dry chuckle of his own, Steve bobbed his eyebrows. "Can I at least enjoy it while it lasts?" He put the Cracker Jack boxes back in the bag and set it on the floor before turning towards the door. "I'll go order the pizza and tell the guys to come in."
As the door closed behind the departing young man, Mike leaned back against the pillows and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to stop the tears of joy and relief. He was only partially successful.
# # # # #
"So who, exactly, is this 'Mongo' guy?" Steve asked as he picked up another slice of pizza from the box, tearing at the cheese strings to free it from its neighbours. He sat back down on the stool beside the bed, glancing at Healey and Haseejian.
Two chairs and another stool had been brought into the room. Haseejian was in a chair against the wall near the door, Healey on the stool beside him. Devitt's chair was at the foot of the bed.
Mike, a half-eaten slice of cheese-and-pepperoni in his right hand and a napkin in the other, swallowed before answering. "Remember our little… altercation in the bar?"
Steve snorted. "How could I forget?" They all chuckled but there was no mirth in the sound.
"Well, his buddy was that bald-headed freak who stabbed me," Mike's voice was soft and almost far-away; he cleared his throat slightly, "and, ah, 'Mongo' kicked me in the head when I was down." He stared at his partner without blinking. He knew Steve wasn't aware of this; it had happened after he'd been hit with the pool cue. He pointed to the still visible bruising on the right side of his face. "That's how I got this."
Steve stared at him unmoving, trying to process this new information. He nodded slowly.
Not wanting to dwell, Mike pressed on. "So, anyway, turns out their little… attack on you and me wasn't in the Crocker playbook, so to speak. Seems Baldy had a real anger problem and resented you and me playing on his table."
"That was all it was?" Steve asked incredulously, looking around the room at the others, who nodded back solemnly. "Son of a bitch…" he breathed as he sagged on the stool, the slice of pizza forgotten in his hand.
"Anyway," Healey took up the narrative, bringing them all back to the here and now, "shortly after all that happened," he gestured vaguely back and forth between the partners, "Baldy and Mongo got run off the road by a truck, a la 'Easy Rider'. Lassiter's truck, as a matter of fact. Baldy hit a tree and was killed but Mongo managed to survive."
"Yeah, so Dan and I convinced him," Haseejian continued, glancing at his partner with a tight smile, "that if the Crockers wanted them dead that badly, he could only do himself some good if he came clean and told us what he knew." He shrugged with a pleased smirk. "So… he talked…"
"We're lucky he did," Devitt offered as he sat forward, "'cause that meant we got to you and Craig in time."
They were all looking at Steve with varying degrees of intensity. The youngest member of the group was staring at his partner, who was looking back with a soft smile; then he winked.
"Is there any of that pizza left?" Haseejian's booming voice broke through the increasingly tense silence like a hot knife through butter as he lumbered to his feet and crossed to the overbed table at the foot of the bed where the two pizzas boxes lay.
The others chuckled with somewhat relieved trepidation, grateful for the reprieve. As Healey and Devitt joined the Armenian detective in their quest for another slice, Steve looked at the bed and smiled. He reached out, placed his hand on Mike's forearm and squeezed. Mike's throat tightened, and his smile grew wider.
# # # # #
"Look, ah, I'm gonna get outa here and let you get some sleep. It's gonna be a long drive home tomorrow." Steve picked up the stool he'd been sitting on and placed it against the wall.
Mike, who was more tired than he wanted to admit, let his head drop back onto the pillows. "Sounds like a good idea. Hey, thanks for the pizza, and the Cracker Jack." He pointed at the tiny plastic hourglass on the bedtable and chuckled.
"You're welcome," Steve smiled back. He stared at the older man for a couple of long seconds. "I haven't thanked you properly for what you did for me… at the ranch…"
Mike started to shake his head. "No, you don't have to –"
"Yeah, I do." Steve cut him off, the smile disappearing. "I tried to lift that trapdoor. I don't know how you did it… with the stitches and everything…"
Mike looked away, blinking quickly. Almost subconsciously his right hand went to his stomach. "I didn't have a choice," he said softly, "we were running out of time…"
"You could've killed yourself," Steve said simply, his green eyes continuing to stare, unwilling to back down. "You could've died –"
"No," Mike's eyes snapped up, wide with concern. "No," he repeated firmly, "I wasn't risking my life… I set my recovery back, yes, but my life was never in jeopardy… never. Don't make it sound more dramatic that it was… okay…?" A small warm smile and a soft chuckle took the sting out of the words.
Steve stared, holding his tongue, then he smiled slightly and shook his head. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"
Mike's brow furrowed, confused. "In- what?" he asked haltingly.
Frowning, Steve took a breath. "It means," he began pedantically, "that you're –"
Instantly the older man's face lit up and he laughed. "Beyond hope, I know."
Steve threw his head back. "Why do I let you do that to me?" he asked rhetorically to the ceiling. When he looked back down, he stared at his partner affectionately. Mike stared back and winked.
Reaching out quickly, Steve put his hand on the back of the older man's head and held him briefly, then dropped his hand and took a step back. "Listen, ah, I'll be in first thing in the morning and we can get all our shit together and get out of here, okay?"
"Sounds like a good plan to me," Mike agreed, leaning back against the pillows and trying to keep his heavy-lidded eyes open.
"Try to get a good night's sleep," Steve said as he started for the door.
Mike turned his head. "You too, buddy boy."
Smiling warmly, Steve left the room.
# # # # #
The dark blue wooden door opened and the teary-eyed middle-aged woman looked at him in confusion for a split second before her face exploded into a happy grin and she reached out to pull him into a tight embrace.
Startled, Steve Keller found it extremely difficult not to return the hug. Eventually she pulled back and held him at arms length but was reluctant to let him go entirely. "Oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but…" She inhaled quickly and beamed again. "I don't know how to thank you, I really don't…"
"Mrs. Steen, it wasn't just me, it was a bunch of people –"
"I know, I know," she interrupted him gently. "I heard about you and your partner. Is he okay?"
Steve smiled encouragingly. "Yeah, he's gonna be fine. He, ah, he was the one who found Craig and me."
"I heard," she smiled warmly. "How can I ever thank you both…?" Her gratitude was so genuine he didn't know how to respond.
He shook his head self-consciously. "We're just glad we got Craig back. Um, how's he doing?"
She released her hold on him and took a step back. Her smile quickly turned into a mask of motherly concern. "Physically he's doing okay but…"
Steve nodded sympathetically. "I understand."
"Of course you do," she smiled gratefully. "Would you like to see him?"
The young detective nodded. "I'm sorry it's so late, but we're leaving tomorrow morning to go back to San Francisco and… "
"No need to apologize," she smiled, taking a step back and allowing him further into the house so she could shut the door. "He hasn't been sleeping too well since he got home." She tried to cover her worried tone with a smile but it fell heartbreakingly short. "Follow me."
She led him through the living room and down a short corridor to a closed bedroom door. She knocked once before opening it. "Craig honey, there's someone to see you."
She took a step back so Steve could move into the doorframe. He smiled warmly. "Hi, Craig. I'm Steve."